


Objects Contain the Possibility of All Situations

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood As Lube, Bottom Steve Rogers, Conditioning, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Triggers, improvised bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: When a trigger phrase gives the Asset explicit orders to violate Captain America, what the Asset does and what's been done to him begin to blur.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 143
Collections: Hydra Holiday Trash Party Gift Exchange 2019





	Objects Contain the Possibility of All Situations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buckybleeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybleeds/gifts).



> Thanks to thefilthiestpiglet and jaunechat for beta-ing, and for the exchange organizers, who gave me an excuse to write trash!
> 
> Title from [this poem](https://anotherhand.livejournal.com/133095.html) by H.L. Hix.

Bucky should have known better. The thought flashed through his head as soon as the recording started playing. It had been too easy to penetrate the deserted base. If the information they’d been looking for had really been here, the security would have been stronger. But Hydra didn’t need security if it had the Winter Soldier defending its interests. 

Bucky turned and threw his rifle to the ground, as if that had any hope of preventing him from hurting someone. The recording played on, detailing his orders. “Get out,” he tried to say, but the breath was already catching in his throat. 

Steve was moving towards him, shield lowered, free hand outstretched, and Bucky waved hm away. Even that movement felt sluggish and weak, as the Russian command phrases sank their points into him and began to take hold. 

“Nat, Sam,” Steve said into the comm. “Keep out of here. We’ve got a trigger situation.”

If either of them responded, Bucky didn’t hear it through his own earpiece. He could only hear the staccato, tinny voice of the recording and the pounding of his own heart. 

Then the Asset saw his mission, clear and within reach, and he was moving again. Rogers barely resisted as the Asset rushed him, slamming him into the wall. A twist of the Asset’s wrist sent the shield clattering to the ground. He had Rogers pinned with an arm across his chest, but the target barely looked concerned. 

“Bucky,” he said evenly, looking the Asset in the eye. “It’s just another command phrase. You can shake it. This isn’t you, it’s just your programming.”

The Asset drew his fist back and hit Rogers on the mouth once, twice, knocking his head against the stone wall. The grunt of pain that escaped him was satisfying, but the Asset knew Rogers wouldn’t be incapacitated for long. With quick, efficient movements, he moved his hands down to unbuckle Rogers’ belt and tug it free of its loops. 

Rogers grabbed at him, but ineffectually, without using even half of his full strength. “Buck,” he said, his words a bit thick through a mouthful of blood. “Remember what we practiced. You can--”

The Asset swept Rogers’ legs out from under him and shoved him to the floor, settling his weight over Rogers’ back. 

“Bucky, you’re not--”

The Asset grabbed Rogers’ hair-- barely enough of it to tangle his fingers in-- when had he begun keeping it so short?-- and slammed his head into the floor. That gave the Asset enough time to slip the belt between Rogers’ teeth and tighten it, stopping his words. 

His own belt-- for some reason he wasn’t wearing his full tactical uniform, but something closer to civilian garb-- he removed and wrapped twice around Rogers’ wrists before tightening it. It wouldn’t stop Rogers if he struggled in earnest, but the Asset could always break his wrists if needed. If Rogers would cooperate, the Asset could finish the mission quickly and then-- he couldn’t think beyond that. There was only the mission in front of him. Once he finished it, they’d tell him what to do next. He only had to obey orders, as always. 

Rogers jerked against the Asset’s hold, but the Asset pressed his weight down hard and hissed, “Be still.”

Surprisingly, Rogers complied. He seemed to be waiting for something. Perhaps he expected reinforcements, and was stalling. The Asset pushed to his feet and kicked the door to the hallway shut. The press of a few buttons on the control panel ensured they wouldn’t be disturbed before he finished his task. The Asset would be very efficient.

Rogers had rolled onto his back, but lay still watching the Asset with narrowed eyes. He seemed wary, not afraid. Strange. Whenever the Asset was on the receiving end of this procedure, he felt afraid. Perhaps this was Rogers’ first time. 

“My orders are not to kill you,” the Asset said. It would certainly make his job simpler if he didn’t need to beat Rogers into unconsciousness to accomplish it. “I am to administer a correction. If you cooperate, there will be no permanent damage.” Those rules had ostensibly been in place when he’d experienced his own corrections, though his handlers had taken a fairly conservative view of what constituted permanent damage. Still, his intention was to make Rogers compliant, not afraid. “Do you understand?”

Rogers narrowed his eyes, but nodded. The Asset watched him for a moment longer. This easy agreement didn’t fit the profile the Asset remembered for this mission. _”I could do this all day.”_ Rogers should be resisting more strenuously. Didn’t he know about the terror, and the pain, the humiliation?

But the Asset was administering the punishment this time. His orders did not specify terror, pain, and humiliation. He merely needed to complete a task, and make sure Rogers did the same. It might even be easier if he didn’t purposely injure Rogers. There had been times when the punishment went on much, much longer than desirable because the Asset had been in too much pain to reach completion. 

“Come here,” the Asset said. 

Rogers glanced quickly around the room, but when the Asset made no other move, he maneuvered to his feet, balancing easily with his hands still bound behind him. 

“Here,” the Asset repeated sharply. If he’d been so slow to comply when on the receiving end of this punishment, he’d have regretted it immediately. But he’d had the benefit of long experience, and clearly Rogers did not. 

Rogers grudgingly stepped closer, within reach of the Asset and all the damage he could inflict. Perhaps Rogers was afraid after all, and simply better at not showing it. 

The Asset grabbed Rogers by the hips and pushed his back against one of the tables bolted to the floor-- for cleaning weapons, perhaps, though the room was now bare of most equipment. Still, they’d given him plenty to work with; often when he’d undergone this punishment, there’d been nothing but cold, bare concrete floor. His handlers had been quick to improvise with their own equipment: boots, knives, stun batons. The Asset could manage with what he had. 

The Asset pressed a hand to the front of Rogers’ pants; he wasn’t aroused at all, yet. The Asset would need to provide some stimulation. Rogers jerked away from him, but trapped between the table and the Asset, couldn’t go far. Instead, he pushed his shoulders forward, trying to shove the Asset away. The Asset’s metal arm shot out, grabbing Rogers by the chin and shoving him back, until he was bent backwards, with the Asset pressed against his front, the Asset’s knee hard and insistent between his legs. 

“You are to comply, and there will not be any unnecessary damage. I’m going to fuck you, and you’re coming to come.” The Asset struggled to remember what else they’d told him the first time, if anything, to prepare him for this procedure. “And you’ll like it, slut.”

A hot flush rose up across Rogers’ face, skin pink where it wasn’t hidden by the belt. _”The look on your fuckin’ face, Stevie. I like it when you get all shy.”_ The Asset frowned, and refocused on his goal. He stepped back far enough to grab at Rogers’ pants. It was easy enough to unbutton them and shove a hand inside. Rogers made a high, strangled noise, but did not resist. 

Rogers cock was still soft, but fit nicely in the Asset’s hand, a pleasantly solid weight-- _”My favorite little handful.”_. The Asset watched Rogers’ face as he slid his hand experimentally up and down the shaft. Rogers said something low and plaintive, muffled by the gag, but the Asset ignored him, just as his handlers had ignored his pleas and protests when he’d been on the receiving end, before he’d learned to be silent. Though wouldn’t it be easier to complete his mission if Rogers felt enough pleasure to reach climax quickly? That hadn’t been the tactic his handlers had taken, but then again, sometimes the Asset’s tactical decisions were more efficient than those who hadn’t been in Hydra’s service for a century. 

Slowly, he let his fingers slide from Rogers dick and instead shoved Rogers pants roughly down to his knees. Bracing his hands under Rogers’ thighs, he lifted until he could tip Rogers’ ass onto the table. When Rogers tried to push back against him, the Asset slapped him across the face-- with his flesh hand this time; they’d never wanted to damage his face during these procedures, though he wasn’t sure why. A black eye would have compromised operational efficiency much less than some of the other injuries they’d inflicted. 

“Stay where I fucking put you,” he snapped, and felt satisfied in his imitation of his handlers. “You don’t get to say no to me.” He grabbed hold of Rogers’ dick again and squeezed. He remembered this part. “You’re nothing but a trained fucking animal. You don’t get to say no, or stop, or please. You say yes sir, and you like it. You do what I say, or I will let every man in this whole base fuck you until you beg to be allowed to suck my cock. Understand me?”

The color had drained from Rogers’ face. His shallow breaths hissed past the improvised gag as his eyes tracked the Asset warily. Then he nodded. The Asset released his grip on Rogers’ cock, and he realized he was shaking. His handlers hadn’t done that; they’re been sure and calm as they punished him. He needed to focus. 

He took a step back and lowered himself to one knee so he could take off Rogers’ boots. The laces took enough of his concentration that he didn’t have to think about Rogers’ wide eyes, the way he’d finally looked, not afraid of him, per se. Perhaps afraid for him. The Asset did not look up again to be sure. It didn’t matter what Rogers felt; he would still get fucked whether he wanted it or not, whether he was afraid or not. 

The Asset set the boots aside with Rogers’ socks stuffed neatly inside, then worked on tugging off Rogers’ pants and underwear. Rogers watched him through it all, and didn’t try to kick him, or even struggle. He obligingly pointed his toe to help the Asset remove the pants which had an impractically tapered ankle. He was being compliant. 

Being compliant had never made this procedure any better for the Asset. On occasion, his mistakes had made the situation worse, but in his experience there had been no opportunity to avoid the more unpleasant aspects of the punishment. But for proper reinforcement, compliance should be rewarded somehow. Especially because this was Rogers’ first time, he would need to learn what behavior was appropriate. 

The Asset pushed to his feet, meeting Rogers’ eyes briefly before he leaned forward and closed his mouth over Rogers’ cock. A shout escaped past Rogers’ gag, and the Asset pushed down to the root with practiced ease, taking Rogers’ whole length. Though Rogers had little leverage in his position, he managed to buck up into the Asset’s mouth, silently demanding more. _”You like that, Stevie?”_ Sloppy discipline. His handlers would have electrocuted his balls if he’d displayed such a brazen reaction. But Rogers would never learn if he wasn’t corrected, and maybe next time whoever administered the punishment would be less forgiving. 

Reluctantly, the Asset dragged his mouth off Rogers’ cock and grabbed hold of Rogers’ balls with his metal hand, squeezing warningly. “You’re not calling the shots here, princess. I’m gonna do whatever I want to you, and you’re just going to lay there and enjoy it. And so help me god, if you cry again, I’m gonna--”

The Asset frowned. Rogers hadn’t done this before, had never cried about taking the punishment he’d earned, the punishment he deserved. Perhaps the Asset was remembering someone else. Quickly deciding it wasn’t important, the Asset tugged Rogers forward to the edge of the table and swallowed down Rogers’ cock again so he wouldn’t need to speak. By now, Rogers had hardened fully, and his breathing had grown loud and ragged. 

It was a pleasant sight, actually, one that made the Asset decide that he’d let Rogers come first. It wasn’t pleasant to be fucked when he wasn’t aroused, but sometimes an orgasm made it easier to take a cock, the release of endorphins relaxing him temporarily. It would also spare Rogers the possibility of failing to come while being fucked. But first he needed to make sure he could move on as quickly as possible after that. 

The Asset’s handlers hadn’t bothered with much preparation, preferring to feel him squirm as they broke him open on their cocks. But at least this first time, simply being fucked would serve as a sufficient correction for Rogers, without the additional discomfort of insufficient prep. 

The Asset eased a knife from his boot, and concentrated on sucking harder until Rogers was moaning helplessly. He barely flinched when the Asset swept a shallow cut across his thigh. Making sure to keep his mouth working diligently, the Asset wiped two fingers through the blood that welled up from the wound, settled his fingers carefully at the entrance to Rogers’ ass, and waited. Rogers tensed, feeling his touch, and then, after a moment, relaxed. After a quick pause to teasingly tongue at the head of Rogers’ cock, the Asset pushed his fingers inside. The Asset had been accustomed to having his body handled even before they’d begun administering corrections like this one. But there was something different about being fucked. Having them handle his cock, shove their fingers in his mouth, their hands inside him-- it hurt more. It made him afraid in a way nothing else did. 

But Rogers didn’t seem particularly afraid. With the Asset’s fingers screwing into him and the Asset’s mouth around his cock, he was shuddering and panting, as if he might come at any moment. And the Asset found his own cock was hard, swaying gently as he moved his body to spur Rogers’ arousal. _”Fucking gorgeous like this. Come on, Stevie, come for me.” “Fucking slut, look at him deseprate for another cock. Maybe two at once this time, what do you think? That might not be enough for this greedy hole.”_

Close now. The Asset needed to concentrate on what he was doing. He curved his fingers and slowed his mouth to a rhythm that seemed familiar, and in a few seconds, Rogers cried out, his hips bucking as he spilled into the Asset’s mouth. 

The Asset stepped back to give Rogers a moment to recover. He spit into his hand and used his fingers to shove some of the semen into Rogers. He’d be glad of it soon. Of course he’d come while being punished. Fucking disgusting. He must like it as much as they told him he did. But no… Rogers hadn’t done this before. The Asset was _supposed_ to make him come. Part of the mission. Almost done now. 

The Asset’s hand was shaking. He wiped it on his pants. He needed to finish this. Rogers was still gulping in breaths, but he wasn’t afraid to meet the Asset’s eyes. The Asset quickly grabbed Rogers by the shoulders and pushed him over onto his front. “I’m letting your hands loose, but you can’t struggle.” He was proud of how steady his voice sounded. “You’ll only get hurt if you struggle. But you’ll be more comfortable if you can brace yourself. Understand?”

“Uh huh,” Rogers grunted. It wasn’t a proper yes, sir, but it would do. The belt restraint was easy to snap. Rogers didn’t try to struggle once his arms were free, but simply grabbed the edge of the table and held on. _”That’s right. Open yourself up for us. I’ll give you something you’ll like.”_

Everything was ready. There was nothing to stop him from completing the mission. The Asset reached between Rogers legs to smear his fingers through the sluggishly bleeding cut on Rogers’ thigh, and gave his own cock a few swift strokes. Then he settled his hands on Rogers hips and pressed his cock inside, slowly but implacably. Beneath him, Rogers hissed and began to tense. 

“Breathe and try to relax. It’ll hurt less.” The Asset tightened his grip on Rogers’ hips, trying to ground himself. Rogers breathed out slowly, and the Asset was able to sink in the rest of the way. 

“Keep breathing. It’ll be over soon.” That had always been a lie, when his handlers said it, but he hoped it was true this time. The Asset drew out a few inches, then slid slowly back inside. He adjusted his angle and did it again. Rogers seemed to relax a little more. 

Soon, the Asset had settled into a steady rhythm, with Rogers panting beneath him, punctuating the movements with occasional stifled groans. _”Jesus, Stevie, shut up. The neighbors’ll hear.”_ Rogers hadn’t been scrupulously trained-- hadn’t learned the hard way-- not to make any noise at all, no matter how much it hurt. But the Asset found he didn’t mind the noise. _”Hit him again; it makes him tighter. See if you can get him to scream.”_ The Asset thrust harder, digging his fingers in for a better grip. It wasn’t supposed to feel good. This was a punishment, and he needed it to hurt, so he could learn. His handlers had always known how to make a punishment stick.

“Fucking take it, you slut,” the Asset hissed. “You fucking cunt. You think you’re so tough, but you bend over and beg for cock like a needy little whore. You like that? You like feeling a real man fuck you? Yeah, you got shit to say to me, cause you’re just a thing for the real soldiers to use. Take it, take it, fucking take it.” 

The Asset thrust his hips forward again and again, the body beneath him just a hole that he wanted to hurt, that deserved to be hurt; he deserved this punishment, because he hadn’t been perfect, and they needed to correct him, to make him better, to make him worthy of being the Fist of Hydra, and he would endure this, if it meant they’d keep him in operation, let him perform his primary function, not put him back in the chair. He’d finish, he’d complete this mission, and then his handlers would be pleased, and he could be the Asset again, and not just an object for them to hurt and to fuck. His body tensed and he held his breath to prevent the escape of any sound as he climaxed, spilling into the body beneath him. He’d succeeded. He’d completed the mission. 

And Bucky jerked backwards, stumbling and falling onto his ass as he looked around wildly. His pants gaped open at the front, his softening cock exposed, with come and blood smeared around the head. He stared, heart thudding for a moment as he tried to remember where he was-- when he was. 

And then there was Steve-- naked from the waist down-- pushing himself up from the table to turn and look at Bucky. A series of finger-width red marks were pressed into his hips, darker on the left side. He was tugging loose the belt that had been shoved between his teeth, and gingerly touching his jaw.

“No,” Bucky said. He’d been searching the room with Steve. The computer had turned on. But that hadn’t been the last thing. There were flashes between now and then. The trigger phrases in Russian. Steve’s pained grunt. The tight warmth of pushing inside him. His struggles as Bucky held him down. “No.” 

Bucky closed his eyes and could feel it all again, what was done to him, and what he’d done. He should look at Steve, try to help him, try to fix what he’d broken. But he couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t move, couldn’t look. He should have known better.


End file.
